A Stranger Across A Crowded Room
by UnderstandablyMillie
Summary: Modern!Theatre!AU. Georg Von Trapp is roped into a production of "South Pacific", despite his general aloofness and distaste for the whole affair- especially his co-star, a young music teacher by the name of Maria Rainer.


Georg Von Trapp had never felt as out of place as he had at that moment.

Despite all that had happened in the past 5 years, all that had happened in his entire _life_ , he had never quite felt as awkward, as exasperated, and as abashed as he had then and there, sitting in a bare, oversized studio, in a too-small plastic chair that made him feel like an oversized child.

He checked his phone. 7 _:00_. Only 15 minutes left, and still, Kaufmann wasn't here. It struck him as odd that someone so important to this whole production would show up so long after everyone else, even considering the "artists are disorganized hippies" stereotype.

It had all started with a phone call that morning at work.

* * *

 _Georg picked up his cell phone, checking to see if it was that telemarketer who'd been calling on repeat all week._

 _Nope. It was Max_ _. And while he'd known Max since their days in military training (though Georg long suspected the other man had done it just to pay his way through university), and come to see him almost as family, he still felt it was much too early to be dealing with the impresario's tomfoolery while uncaffeinated._

 _"Hello?"_

 _"Georg! I wasn't even sure you'd pick up this early, but I guess I was right to call. But aside from that, how are you?"_

 _"Max, I'm very sure that you didn't just call to see how my day is going, what is it that you want?"_

 _"I'm getting the idea that you haven't had any coffee yet, have you?"_

 _Georg didn't answer._

 _"Well, either way, I'll take that as a 'yes'. But as for the reason I'm calling, you know my old friend, Kaufmann, right?"_

 _"The director?"_

 _"Well, she's been insisting to talk to you for over a week now. Won't tell me why either."_

 _"Well, that's odd. And you don't have any idea why?"_

 _"Well, I don't think she intends to bed you, if_ that's _what you mean. She's been in a loving relationship for well over a year now."_

 _"T-that's definitely not what I meant!"_

 _"Well, knowing your reputation, I can never be too sure."_

 _"Oh, come on! That was in college!"_

 _"If you say so."_

 _"Alright, I really should call Kaufmann, seeing as the matter's so urgent."_

 _And with that, Georg looked up the director's phone number and dialled._

 _"Hello, Georg Von Trapp speaking. I heard that you wanted to talk to me?_

 _"Well, I've been meaning to talk to you, so it's good that you called. You_ are _aware that I'm directing a production of_ South Pacific _, starting tonight?"_

 _"Yes? And you want me to donate?"_

 _"No, actually. I'm calling because I think you'd make a perfect Emile De Becque."_

 _"... Could you repeat that?" Because there was absolutely no way that was what she said. He hadn't even attempted to sing a note in years, and had never acted in his life. She_ had _to have some other explanation._

 _"I said, I'm calling because I think you're the ideal choice for Emile De Becque."_

 _"Why on earth would you think that?" He laughed, the situation still not feeling quite real to him._

 _"Excuse me?"_

 _"I_ don't _sing."_

 _"Not according to the video I stumbled across. Now, Georg, you have real potential; much more than anyone who auditioned!"_

 _"All I have to say is-"_

 _"Hold on; I've got someone on the other line, see you tonight at the script read!"_

* * *

And so, here he was. The last place he'd _ever_ want to be right now, waiting to tell some scatterbrained director that he wasn't interested in the role that had been foisted upon him. And there was no way, under any circumstances that he _would_. A respectable man like him would never be part of some fluffy '50's musical, because there are standards a man like him needed to uphold, especially with his high-ranking navy job. How would he be taken seriously upon hearing the news? Especially as a strong, respectable father to his children. He wasn't sure he'd be able to look them in the eye after this.

Not that he hated musicals, per se- he used to watch them with Agathe sometimes, in fact, and he'd come to see them as a kind of guilty pleasure. It was partially the idea of being in one, where people could see him and the kind of joke he'd become. And while he'd glued himself back together after the death of his wife- had even started to be able to listen to her favourite songs again- even the _thought_ of singing them brought back that sick, sinking feeling.

Just then, Kaufmann entered the room, and, cutting straight through the volume of the crowd, she called out to see if all of the leads were there. Unfortunately, upon discovery, the actress playing Nellie hadn't shown up, an act which most found to be bordering on treasonous, especially the multitude of women who had been vying for that very part.

Kaufmann took a long sip of her coffee. "Well, this is _wonderful_."

"Director Kaufmann? I could simply read Nellie's lines until the actress decides to actually show." a voice spoke up from the back.

"That's not a bad idea. So, let's get to the read through."

Georg picked up his script, still unaffected by irresponsible actresses, or read-throughs, or anything other than talking to Kaufmann, and sorting out this mess.

At least until a familiarly slim figure came forward to perch on the stool opposite him.

There was no mistaking the assured manner of her gait, or the firm, steely look in her eye.

He was reading lines with Elsa Schraeder, as in, his _girlfriend_ , whom he'd had no idea was remotely interested in acting. A twinge of guilt hit his stomach, but it quickly subsided as he stopped staring slack-jawed for long enough to be hit by reality.

"Georg? Why, this is the last place I expected to see _you_!"

"Oh, really? I suppose I could say the same for you." he jested, in a valiant attempt to hide his urge to go home, pass out, and put this fiasco behind him.

Elsa opened her script in indifference, and turned towards the acfors within the first scene, who were already in the midst of reading.

"I'm here!" a voice gasped from the doorway.

Everyone turned to see the out-of-breath young blonde woman, soaked to the bone, yet not lacking a boyish vitality in the slightest.

* * *

As all eyes in the room came to face her, Maria Rainer was suddenly aware of how loud she was.

She'd be lying if she said nobody had chastised her about her volume before that moment, and she'd tried to stop- she really _did_. But she was never able to catch herself when it was happening, and she had never truly been aware of it at all until that moment, when she'd loudly made herself known to a roomful of virtual strangers.

Unsure of what to do now, she shifted onto one foot, causing a wet squeaking noise to emanate from her shoe. Were they really _that_ wet? She hadn't noticed before now. Her clothes were clinging to her as well, and she dismissed the urge to undo her jacket and wring her dripping shirt dry.

Shoes still screeching across the floor, she made her way over to the director, and held her hand out for a firm handshake.

"Maria Rainer, ma'am. I'm sorry about being so late. I really _am_ , and I promise I'll never make the same mistake again. I was just buying groceries, and I found a dog wandering around- it had a collar on, so I brought it in to see if it belonged to anyone, but nobody there had lost a dog. So I went outside to see if I could find the dog's owner, and eventually I found him, but at that point, I'd already lost track of the time, and-"

She stopped then, having run out of breath, as well as brazenness.

Director Kaufmann gave her a puzzled look, patted her on the back, and steered her over to a man with ramrod posture.

"I appreciate the sentiment, but if you could just flip open the script, that'd be a lot more appreciated.


End file.
